This is the kind of dish I love making – the kind that prompts friends and family to ask questions like, “You made this??” or “What is the recipe?” or if I’m really lucky, “How do you do it all??” That particular question is always my fave, because it clearly means I’ve successfully convinced people that I have my shit together.
Which of course I don’t.
I totally want you to think I do.
That’s why I only post the pictures that edit my life juuuuuust enough to appear 99% on-point (100% would just be annoying). Will you be seeing that unfortunate batch of homemade fruit roll-ups that never quite set, despite hours in the oven? Nope. Because failed fruit roll-ups are in no way illustrative of the level of effortless 99% perfection I’m looking to project. Will a photo of my enraged 5-year-old throwing himself on the ground in the dentist’s office ever make its way onto my facebook feed? Um no. What kind of supermom would document the fact that she let her child writhe around in public on a germ-ridden floor and shit on everyone’s day?? (Ok, well I actually have done that, but only to coax the rest of the failed supermoms out of the closet to make myself feel better. Failure loves company.) Will I be posting any selfies of the pajama pants, oversized t-shirt and frizzy-ass mom bun I rocked braless alllllll day long with zero shame? Bitch, please.
Because then you’d see that I am so clearrrrrrrrrly not 99% perfect. And while the compliment of being asked how I manage to “do it all” is accepted with arms wide open…and is just enough praise and validation to keep my ego safely intact, I’d be a total asshole to just stand by and continue to watch as we allow one another to suffer in the belief that everyone else is doing it all, while we ourselves are inadequate failures. So in an effort to keep it super real, I’ve created a little chart to highlight the good, the bad and the downright ugly of me.
So yeah, I don’t do it all, and I’m not 99% perfect, despite what these dumplings might suggest. Far from it. I may put some clutch meals on the table, but my boys’ playroom pretty much always looks like this:
My kitchen sink pretty much always looks like this:
Annnnnnd my husband pretty much always arrives home to the human, female, yoga-pant-clad version of this:
Just like anyone, I have my priorities, and while a sparkling clean house may be priority numero uno for some, my love for cooking and the praise it affords me (second only to oxygen in terms of my basic needs for survival) trumps any desire whatsoever to focus my efforts on having a dust-free home. No shame. Ok, well that’s a lie, there will be shame if you happen to stop by my house unannounced, thus cheating me out of the full-day’s notice I’d typically need to tidy up the joint just enough to make it appear comfortably lived-in, yet miraculously mess-free, despite the fact that I live with three baby gorillas who have free range of the house and really bad aim.
So let’s sum up what we’ve learned. Food: I do well. Pretty much everything else: not so much. But that’s ok. Because once you taste my edamame dumplings, you’ll forget all about everything else anyway. Know why? Because a combination of velvety creamed edamame and luscious truffle oil all wrapped up in a big, warm dumpling hug tends to do that to a person.
So no, I absolutely do not have my shit together. But I make a meeeeeean dumpling.
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dumplings
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Ingredients
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